


Jazz and Coffee

by VegebulMelodies



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, BVDN, Band Fic, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jazz - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VegebulMelodies/pseuds/VegebulMelodies
Summary: For the Prince and the Heiress Mature BVDN Night"Bulma runs into Vegeta when supporting a friend at a local coffee house for jazz night. Suddenly, she's thrown into the group...and supposed to be a co-lead singer with a grumpy Saiyan! Can they put aside their differences and make sweet music together?"
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74
Collections: Bulma and Vegeta Drabble Night, The Prince and the Heiress Challenges





	1. My Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is a given prompt. Will be uploaded as I write them.  
> Some chapters have songs that helped with inspiration.
> 
> Theme: Motown (even though I went the jazz route)  
> Cover art by @BianWW
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: My Girl  
> Word Count: 676

  
Bulma held her purse tighter to her as she squeezed her way into the cozy coffee house. Bodies were packed side-by-side as they crowded the coffee bar and every floor space available. "Come on," Chi Chi said quickly, taking the blue-headed woman by the hand and dragging her roughly through the crowd. For once, she was the one apologizing as her friend shoved everyone aside and made for a side table with a tiny 'reserved' placard on the surface. She watched her give a sigh before settling into the tiny, wooden chair. Chi Chi brushed back a stray black hair, tucked it neatly into her bun, and ran her thumb over the outside of her lips. Checking her lipstick. Again.

She chuckled to herself, watching her friend fret. "You know, Goku doesn't care if you wear makeup or anything. He's just happy to be with you."

A cutting look hit her before it melted away into nervousness. "I know," Chi Chi sighed. "I just can't help it. I'm so very proud of him...I want tonight to go perfectly!"

"He's just playing the bass at the little jazz joint. What could go wrong?" Bulma asked nonchalantly. A hard elbow hit her in the back, catching her breath momentarily. Some guy with a mop-like hairdo got a heated glare from her. She looked around the room, taking in her surroundings. The flooring directly to her right was different, dark wood, while the rest of the room was linoleum from Bulma's observation. A few instruments - a piano, double bass, drum set, a microphone, and a few music stands - were set up in different areas. 

_Probably where the band is going to play..._

She shrugged. A blonde waitress came by, after forcefully hip bumping a few patrons aside, and set some glasses of water down on the table. "I'm Lazuli," she said quickly as a notepad revealed itself from her black apron. "One of our band members we take 'extra special care' of this table. So, do you want anything?" 

Bulma gave Chi Chi an 'I told you so' look, who was blushing. Clapping her hands together and relaxing more into the seat, she turned to the blonde. "Sure! By the way, you're freaking gorgeous. I hope someone told you that today. Anyway, can I have a caramel apple spice cider? And Chi Chi probably just wants some-"

"Lemon pound cake?" she cut her off with a smug grin. "Already on its way." And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

Chi Chi's face beamed a bright shade of red. "How did she know that?"

Absentmindedly twirling her straw, Bulma said, "Well, you are Goku's girl..."

The lights began to dim, suddenly, and light up the stage next to them.  
A few light claps and snapping sounded through the room response.   
Some voices hushed while others subtlety cheered as a group of men came towards them in black trousers and white shirts. 

A tall one, grinning from ear to ear, with disheveled hair took his place next to the double bass. His fingers plucked the strings comfortably but experimentally. Those white teeth shot a beaming grin towards their table, much to Chi Chi's delight. The other members Bulma had never seen before. One had hair stretching to the floor, all of it pulled back in a tight braid as he took a place at the drums. Another, just as big as the first two, looked burly but apprehensive. Large hands had taken a cautious hold of a shining, brass trumpet and thumbed the mouthpiece absentmindedly. 

But that hadn't really caught Bulma's attention. There was a fourth, shorter than the rest with flaming black hair. He took his place at the microphone, deft hands adjusting the stand to his comfort, and a confident, crooked grin spread across his face. Black eyes combed the crowd as he asked, "How's everyone doing tonight?"

A group of cheers answered the rumbling voice as the band began to play.  
Bulma was on the edge of her seat, eyes never leaving the soloist.

_Who was he..._


	2. Beehive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Beehive  
> Word Count: 588

After the set -which was incredibly successful, if the cheers and turnout had anything to say about it - Chi Chi booked it towards her man and giggled when he lifted her up into the air. "You came!" he yelled loudly, smiling wide. The couple, lost in their own world, twirled and laughed about the show. Pride rolled off of Chi Chi in waves, bringing a smile to Bulma's face. She was beyond happy that she set the two of them up all those years ago; they deserved each other.

The member with the braided hair, who looked oddly enough like Goku from a certain angle, was smiling and chatting up a few ladies on the side. The trumpeter disappeared among the crowd. Another member - some tall bald guy with a heavy mustache - had come in halfway through the set to play some gentle drums. But the vocalist, with his way-too-sexy timbre and steely-eyed gaze stood off to the side. Every once in awhile, he'd give a side-eye of disgust at the couple before looking away.

With a confident smile, Bulma stood and smoothed out her dress. With her hair up in a ball of stylized curls and a cute black number hugging her skin, she knew she looked good. Shit, more than a few of the men in the room thought so too. But she walked up to the singer, smiled, congratulated him for an amazing show, and asked for his name, she didn't expect his answer:

"Why would I give my name to an imbecile who looks like they have a beehive on their head?"

She stood there, fuming and mouth hanging open, as he sauntered away. "Fuck you too, prick," she spit at his disappearing form, hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Oh, don't mind Vegeta, sweetheart." The tall one with the braid said, walking up to her with a wide smile. He exuded a friendly kind of confidence as he leaned against the piano, looking her over and talking like it was the easiest thing in the world. "He's always a bit bitchy after a performance."

"I'll say." She looked him over too; cute, but maybe for someone like her sister. "You guys did a great job tonight. More than I expected, honestly."

"Well, I'm glad we lived up to your high expectations." He gave a mock bow, before returning upright. That grin never faltered.

"Yeah! I mean, if we sounded half as good as Bulma does then I'll take that," Goku chimed in, hugging his girl to his side snuggly. "You studied for how many years? Ten?"

"Seventeen, but who's counting," she said quickly with a smile. "I'm glad you're doing something you love, though, buddy. And you do it really well."

"Wait, you studied music?" the pianist asked quickly. "Doing what?"

Suddenly, Bulma felt uncomfortable under his intense gaze. "Singing," she answered. "Why?"

He gasped, looking towards her friend. "Dude! Didn't I just say we needed a female vocalist?"

Goku hissed air between his teeth, a hand coming up to rub the back of his head. "I don't know, Raditz. 'Geta said he could do fine all by himself. Shouldn't we-"

"Get her on right now? Absolutely! And you know Brolly will side with us; he doesn't care!" Raditz ran happily to the back, excusing his way through the remaining bodies in the room as quickly as possible.

Bulma stared after them, stupefied. "What just happened?" her voice squeaked out.

She heard her friend give a light laugh. "Apparently, you're in our band."


	3. Record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Record  
> Word Count: 768
> 
> Song and Artist: Queen of Pain by Devil Doll

The sun beat down heavily on the Briefs household, setting the whole complex with an uncomfortable, sweltering aura. Bulma, clad in a polka dot bikini and wide-brimmed sun hat lounged by the pool in an effort to cool off. 

Sweat dripped off of her indiscriminately, leaving her feeling sticky. 

The record player next to her bob it’s needle up and down along the track, a low alto humming through the speakers. 

She kept running the conversation that she was thrown into yesterday over and over in her mind. 

" _Apparently, you're in our band."_

_“Didn't I just say we needed a female vocalist?”_

_"Why would I give my name to an imbecile who looks like they have a beehive on their head?"_

Bulma sighed heavily, tossing her hat to the side. Irritation seemed to roll over her almost as much as the heat. Did she really want to be in a band? That kind of thought was something that little kids think up, and that those who weren’t carted off to choir every day before school did. Singing felt always more like a hobby, anyway, and claw second to her academics. She always enjoyed singing and her day never felt complete without vocalizing along with at least one song. 

But in a band? With other people? 

Singing with _that_ asshole? 

A scoff left her lips. What was his problem, anyway? Vegeta, as his name supposedly was, had an attitude problem from hell. How was she supposed to share vocals with an egotistical dick bag like that? 

_I mean, he’s pretty to look at...but can I stand being near him for more than five minutes?_

She didn’t know the answer to that question. 

“Why is it every time I’m forced to be near you for more than five minutes, Kakarot, you drag me to somewhere stupid?” he spat as the car sped down the road. Nevermind the fact that he was behind the wheel while he complained. He needed to speak with this blue-haired woman - Bulma - about this foolishness anyway. 

But he damn sure didn’t want to invite _him_ along. 

“You know, you can call me Goku right? Everyone else does,” the idiot in the passenger seat told him, those bright eyes irritating the skin they peered at. 

“Is your name ‘Kakarot’ on your I.D.?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, that’s your damn name.”

A scowl decorates his face the rest of the ride there. This woman was apparently some kind of heiress to a corporation. Yet, she insisted on joining his group. Well, Raditz insisted on her joining. From what he heard of the conversation, she wasn't too keen. But if she was as talented as they claimed she was - without even hearing an audition first, much to his irritation - it might be...beneficial. She was attractive and seemed to know it. They already attracted crowds but a woman might draw more influential listeners.

Bulma let her foul mood drift into the wind, singing absentmindedly to the music beside her.

Her head bobbed gently.

Fingers on her right hand instinctively conducted along with the beat, her mind envisioning an entire orchestra following the movements.

She couldn't help but see herself in darkened, smokey bar with a slinky dress singing along. One of those old school radio mics in front of her and instrumentalists at polished podiums as she bopped and swayed. A warm feeling, not nearly as unpleasant as the rest of the heat around her, sat in her stomach. Even as the music ended, the feeling remained. Eyes barely open behind her darkened shades, Bulma stood and dove into the cool waters of the pool, feeling wonderfully pleasant.

"See what I mean?" Kakarot urged, gesturing towards the woman that was now swimming in the pool. Vegeta frowned, watching her intently. They had every intention of knocking on the door, and he had every intention of ripping the female a new one for butting her head in his business uninvited, but then they heard the music. So, here they were around the side of the house. Peeping on an incredibly curvy woman as she submerged herself under the water again.

"Tch," he answered, not wanting to give the fool an answer.

That irritating grin grew. "So, she's in?"

Vegeta gave an irritated sigh before walking back to the car. "Tell her to be at rehearsal tomorrow," he called over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. A chill ran down his spine. This woman was dangerous, he could feel it. What would happen if she got under his skin again?

He didn't know the answer to that question.


	4. Do You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Do You Love Me  
> Word Count: 551
> 
> Song and Artist: You're the Boss by The Brian Setzer Orchestra

At first, their audience didn’t know what to think. They played tag with the lyrics, bouncing with the beat as each on-looker swayed in their seats. Him in a dark purple suit, that black hair sticking up in its signature way. Her in a matching gown, covered from head to toe in sequins, a bright contrast to the depth of his tone. 

“Oh, when it comes to kissin’, I just gotta keep insistin’. Oh, baby...you sure do swing!” he rang out, a heart-breaker smile plastered across his lips. 

Bulma grinned back, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she winked at the whoops in the crowd. “And when it comes to kissin’, I just gotta keep insistin’. Oh no, Daddy...you are the king!”

They ate it up! Every call-out as they took turns with the melody, showing off their tone with belting scats and jazz chords. 

The piano bumped and jived. 

The bass plucked and bounced. 

The drums pounded. 

Their voices were in sync. 

“Do you _have_ to be so unbearably pitchy?!” she shrieked, making every male but the one she was yelling at flinch. “You get on _me_ for being on top of the note when you do it all the time in that song!”

He growled, “At least I know what the hell rhythm is! You sound like that moronic brown bear puppet attempting a bare semblance of a cadence.”

“Did you just compare me to Fozzy Bear, you fucker?!”

“What do you think, you infuriating female?!”

“Oh my god, can you two just fuck already?!” Raditz yelled from his seat at the piano, causing every eye in the room to turn towards him. Brolly flinched, doing his best to hide an amused grin behind his hand. Nappa straight out laughed, almost jabbing himself in the eye with a drumstick when he moved to wipe his face. The two vocalists just stared in shock at Raditz before simultaneously exploding.

“What?! Why the hell-“

“Are you out of your mind-“

“Why would anyone wa-“

“Oh, that’s rich! You have some nerve-“

“Will you learn to just shu-“

The keys of the piano banged in dissonance as Raditz slammed his hands down on the ivories until both Vegeta and Bulma stopped talking. For a brief, blissful moment there was silence. He gave a sigh. “Look, you guys have been fighting out the ass since Bulma started three weeks ago. Can’t you just chill? For once?”

Vegeta scoffed, crossing his arms. The muscles bulged almost as thickly as the vein in his forehead. “And how am I supposed to ‘chill’ when we have a promoter coming to the show this weekend and my co-vocalist isn’t on point?”

Bulma mimicked his stance, shooting daggers at the man. “Or when this self-righteous piece of shit won’t get it through his head he’s not Kami’s gift to jazz.”

A snarky grin appeared on Vegeta’s face. “I mean, you said it.”

Before she could go off again, Goku said, “Can’t you guys just figure something out? We don’t want to ruin this shot, you know? At least I don’t. And you sound great together. So, you know, this could work.”

Bulma sighed, looking away from the man just a few feet away from her. 

His fists clenched, avoiding eye contact with her too. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”


	5. Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Soul  
> Word Count: 248
> 
> Song and Artist: Crazy (feat. Jannah Gill and Casey Abrams) by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox

The room was packed, as always, but an additional table was reserved next to Chi Chi’s. Two men, one with dark hair and the other with white, looked at the stage with earnest. 

A finger tapped against the table.

The other’s right heel bounced gently to the beat. 

She took a breath, letting the spotlight wash over her as the notes - _right_ on point - started to flow from her lips. 

The beat, gentle and steady, made her sway in the dim light. Bulma’s skin-tight evening gown shimmered in the Smokey atmosphere as the music cast a shade of mystery over the room. 

Then Vegeta began to sing. His words, his notes, harmonized with hers. The blood red of his dress shirt made the caramelization of his skin pop even more than usual. 

This part was supposed to be improvised, Bulma remembered thinking to herself. They never rehearsed this. 

Yet, suddenly, when he reached for her hand and pulled her tight to his chest for a slow two-step she let him lead. 

The instruments swung gently. 

His hand pressed into the small of her back. 

Her breath caught. 

Too soon, the lyrics needed to start again...but those blacks eyes were locked with those that were blue. 

They sang in tandem. 

Each word came faster than the other. 

Perfect sync. 

In symmetry. 

“I think you’re crazy...just like me...”

Lips a breath apart. 

Chests rumbling against each other’s.

All sound stopped. 

And then the crowd cheered, breaking the spell. 


	6. Going Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jukebox  
> Word Count: 1148
> 
> Song and Artist: Hey, Boy! Hey, Girl! by Louis Prima and Keely Smith

The beat bumped as the bright, infectious mood of the band filtered through the audience. Everyone was all smiles, even the grumpiest member of their team grinning like a jackass eating strawberries.

He looked to the woman next to him, that blue-eyed vixen that seemed to know him deeper than he dared understand, as they scatted in a call-and-receive way.

_She gasped, those painted lips sucking and lapping at his as he pinned her against the jukebox. A record inside sprang to life, lighting the box up and playing the music loudly._

_Not a soul was in the place besides them._

_Thank Kami, Vegeta thought to himself. Ever since the show ended he'd wanted to be buried between her thighs..._

"Hey girl...you sure look fine," he sang as his band mates called out behind him to the beat. His eyes combed over her figure, secretly loving the way every dress she wore to the shows extenuated her softness and showed off her figure. At first, he despised the temptation she brought to him. But now...

_Buttons were snapped away as his shirt ripped open._

_That shimmering fabric from her gown was yanked above those wide hips as her legs clamped around his waist._

_Fingers dug into his scalp, sending a shiver of excitement and thrill up his back, causing a growl to be pulled from his throat._

_His belt twisted until it unlatched, causing his waistband to loosen._

_"Hurry," she pleaded with a heady voice._

"Hey boy...you're sweet as wine," she answered, smiling back at him. His heart stopped, forgetting for a moment it was just the lyrics. Fuck, it was hard to focus when all he could think about is what happened in here - his eyes flickered to the back of the room - right there...

_They both sighed in relief and pleasure as his cock sunk into her core. "Fuck, you're wet," he groaned, closing his eyes at the sensation. She moaned at that, her walls involuntarily clenching even tighter around him. Every heated bit of her insides squeezed and drenched him. Vegeta had always taken pride in his stamina but, fuck, he wasn't sure he could hold out when she felt sooo good._

_Those creamy, soft breasts heaved, having been pulled out of the top of her outfit and laid on full display for him, as Bulma felt him begin to move. It was slow and steady, at first, his thrusts testing how much she could take._

_But when she whimpered, "Please, take me harder," Vegeta couldn't help but oblige._

"I look in your eyes and my knees get weak," he sang.

"When I'm in your arms I can hardly speak," she answered.

"I hear pretty music when I hear your name-"

Together they harmonized, "Baby, baby, baby, say you feel the same..."

_The jukebox rocked furiously, the record constantly skipping as he pounded deep inside of her. Bulma ceased caring about how loud she was long ago; it was too hard to stay quiet when he kept pounding inside of her..._

_Just..._

_Like..._

_That...!_

The room was filled with moving bodies as the patrons danced to the blows of the trumpet, the tapping of the bass, the bouncing of the keys, and the heartbeat of the drum. Lips barely an inch apart, Vegeta and Bulma sang into the microphone in unison, not even having to try to play the part of enjoying working together right now.

Across the room, two figures - Whis and Beerus, their names were - watched with interest, sipping coffee. Their decision to invest in this little group proved promising. But, first, to find a bigger venue...

_He started to lose it._

_Vegeta shook all over, his limbs struggling to maintain a firm grip on her body. The feel of her body shaking beneath him, those nails digging into the skin of his back as their hips slammed into one another's... "I-It's too much," he moaned, burying his face in her shoulder. A firm hand clung to her right breast for support, while the other dug bruises into her hip. "I-I can't take it..."_

_His answer was a high-pitched moan. He loved the way he could tell she was close, and was thankful for the first time of her being such an audible woman. As her pleasure climbed, so did the notes her voice hit. If she began to dip, he was edging her without trying, causing frustration. So when she hit that note again and climbed higher, that delicious body shaking underneath him violently from the intensity of it all, Vegeta felt himself start to come apart..._

Clapping sounded through the room as the song finished, a series of chants and whoops to follow. Immediately, the bad entered a jazzy instrumental, letting the crowd resume their dancing with a classic tune. And giving the vocalists a much-needed break.

_Nothing was sexier than the sound of him coming apart._

_A man so controlled, so quiet unless provoked, losing his sanity by losing himself in her was fascinating to watch._

_And beyond sexy._

_Those black eyes were heated, seeming to plead with her every time they locked with hers for help she didn't know how to give._

_His fingers clenched and unfurled unconsciously over her body - scratching her skin, desperately clinging to the lifeline that was her body._

_Strands of hair, heavy with sweat and abuse from her own hands, stuck messily in every direction on his scalp._

_Those rippling muscles, always hidden beneath dress shirts and suit jackets, tensed firmly as he moved impossibly faster._

_Every pump brought her over the edge, again, and drove him mad. Words lost articulation; just whimpering, desperate sounds and gasping breaths left their mouths as he chased his peak._

_He made a desperate noise, one that would reek of the words 'please' if one were to translate it._

_Her fingers clung to him fast, those blue curls falling back against the cold metal beneath her, submitting completely._

_Yet, moments before it was over, the words came back..._

_"Ngh...I-I can't...pleeeease..."_

_"I-It's too...t-too much..."_

_"I-I'm going to cum...holy fuuck..."_

_The timbre of his voice raised, every word he uttered leaving Bulma speechless. She'd never heard something so hot in her life. And as he lost it, and his hips slammed into hers uncaring of bruises and fucked-up bones, he screamed against her chest. A hand that had grabbed her body before now clutched the edge panel of the jukebox, bending the frame with a loud crack._

_Each shuddered as they fell over the edge into oblivion..._

They sat to the side, each sipping a glass of water, looking straight head.

There was an unspoken heat between them that made Bulma bite her lip.

Memories flooded her mind...and she felt it happen between her legs, as well.

Those black eyes flickered to her, knowingly. He took a drink, hiding the smirk on his lips and the blush on his cheeks.


End file.
